


Zephyrus

by basinnit



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst in chapter 3, Anxiety, Blood, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, I will add tags as I go, Minor Character Death, Orphans, Panic Attacks, Prince Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Violence, baby will is literally the cutest, just me needing sleepy bois content, no beta we die like Mexican dream, phil is a good dad, probably a lot of angst, self harm in chapter 3, twins just being lovely, voices
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28616322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basinnit/pseuds/basinnit
Summary: Philza wasn’t a babysitter, he said the moment the king asked him for a favor. A long term one, to take in and raise a baby, a pigling, a little prince. He stood there, watching the king with a raised head, forcing the urge to roll his eyes at both of them down his head. That wasn’t a good time to feel petty."Yes," the queen started. Her voice was like honey, warm and sticking to every part of Phil’s insides, making him scowl. The little prince must’ve been annoying. "But you were the god of contracts."
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 210





	1. The Tale of a Fallen God

**Author's Note:**

> Hello sleepytwt... or rather sleepyao3, I think? Take this as my contribution to every content starved mf out there, I gotchu pals. 
> 
> Please mind the tags to this one, because I will be adding more and more of those as we progress with the story. This is my take (bc I'm sad, depressed, and a techno kinnie) take on Philza just slowly taking in more kids. We're starting off with Will and Techno, we will see how it goes. The first chapter is relatively short, I hope it will get better in the future, I'm not used to writing shit that short anymore, eyyyy-
> 
> My twt is @basinnit, I lack mcyt moots, hit me up there, pretty please <3

The boy was no more than a little pigling, small and innocent, sleeping in his arms. For once, Phil wanted to protect him, stay by his side and watch the great things the boy would do. He would’ve been so easy to kill there if it wasn’t for Phil’s wings wrapped around him. He was sleeping peacefully, unaware of how brutal the world outside of his chambers was.

He was the same age as Phil’s  _ son _ . He couldn’t just leave an innocent kid to die in the middle of a war he wasn’t even a part of, not when he had his own child. He wouldn’t be able to look Will in the eyes, coming back without the little boy. He wrapped his coat tighter around the petite body, and left the palace, carefully stepping over the slaughtered bodies of the guards.

Falling asleep, the boy was a prince. A royal brat being raised to be a king. A small boy with both of his parents, loving or not - it didn’t matter. A boy with a home, a country, people that cared about him. (Or maybe they didn’t. Maybe that’s why Philza was about to save him from death)

The boy would wake up an orphan, a refugee, with multiple people trying to find and kill him. 

He imagined the confusion of waking up in a stranger’s house, with the man watching him, a child peeking out from behind the stranger’s wings. He imagined the panic, the hesitation, and maybe the slow relief when Will, his clever son would try to calm the pigling down. 

When he got back home, the sun was already going up. He opened the door and sighed fondly at his sweet boy, rubbing his eyes to wake up fully. 

“Why aren’t you asleep, bud?” Phil whispered, stepping closer to ruffle the kid’s hair.

“Who’s that?” Will asked, ignoring Philza’s question. The nameless prince was still asleep, hiding his face in the man’s chest. Phil smiled softly, placing the boy on the couch.

“Well, I hope he will be your new brother, kid,”

The pigling started waking up hours later, stirring in the middle of Phil’s coat, rubbing his face against the soft material. He still looked peaceful, and Phil would’ve loved to keep it that way, to let him stay innocent and happy as every child should be. He scooped his son up, kissed his forehead softly, and went with him to the kitchen, making Will help him make breakfast for all three of them. They spoke in soft voices, careful not to be too loud. 

Phil chuckled at the little smiley faces Will drew with ketchup on the toasts they were making, before both of them heard someone clear their throat. Phil turned around, eyes falling to the little pigling standing in the door, still having Phil’s coat wrapped around him, dragging it across the floor with how long it was. The kid watched them anxiously, letting his eyes wander every couple of seconds around the kitchen. 

Will was the one who reacted first, placing the plate with the toasts on the table and running up to the orphaned prince, sending him a warm smile.

“Hi! I’m Will, and dad said you’re my new brother!” The boy explained, taking the pigling’s hand and guiding him towards the table. “We made you breakfast, I hope you like toasts, we didn’t really have anything else today,” 

“I… thank you,” The prince said softly, climbing up to the chair, watching the smiling face on the food for a while. 

“What’s your name?” Will asked, jumping up to the chair next to him. Phil exhaled, taking the two remaining plates in his hands and giving one to Will, before sitting next to the kids.

“I’m Techno… Excuse me, but what am I doing here? Where are my parents?”

Phil thought about it for a while. He could tell the boy the truth, or he could lie about it. He watched the worried expression on the boy’s face, watched the anxious pulling on his fingers, the little glances he was casting Will from time to time. 

It would’ve been cruel to lie to him, Phil thought. The boy deserved to know.

(The sun was making the kitchen look so much softer and warmer. The air was filled with the smell of food and Phil’s bitter coffee. Will’s legs were kicking at his under the table, and the kid was smiling mischievously at him. There was dust in the air, visible so well because of the sun. They would have to do some clearing, Phil thought.)

“Some time ago, your parents asked me to take care of you, in case anything happened to them,” He started. The little pigling watched him carefully, swallowing his every word. 

He reminded Phil of Wilbur so much it was terrifying. The same, clever eyes. The calmness in a new situation. The way even not knowing what was happening, Techno seemed to be doing better when Will was holding his hand. 

“I was told that much, but from what I know, you declined it,” Techno mumbled, slowly taking the toast in his hand. Phil could see the way Will smiled widely when Techno bit into it softly, munching on it for a while.

He took a sip of his coffee and placed his chin on the palm of his hand. He let Techno have his moment, enjoy the meal they made him, to take in the warmth of the kitchen. Phil had to water his plants. He hummed into the cup, making a mental note about it. 

“I did,”

Philza wasn’t a babysitter, he said the moment the king asked him for a favor. A long term one, to take in and raise a baby, a pigling, a little prince. He stood there, watching the king with a raised head, forcing the urge to roll his eyes at both of them down his head. That wasn’t a good time to feel petty.  _ Yes,  _ the queen started. Her voice was like honey, warm and sticking to every part of Phil’s insides, making him scowl. The little prince must’ve been annoying.  _ But you were the god of contracts.  _

I’m not a babysitter, he repeated himself in annoyance. He took in Will on his own record, finding a woman after his fall, offering her a deal she couldn’t decline. A mortal son, a little innocent soul about to stay with a fallen god. He wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. 

And yet, weeks later, when the night has fallen and the screams of the maids filled the palace, Phil found himself in the prince’s chambers. He stood by the window, taking in the whole room, lightened only by the full moon. The assassins didn’t get into the chamber yet.

“At the end of the day, I just couldn’t leave an innocent kid to die there,” He explained. Techno nodded his head softly, thinking about Phil’s words. 

He had Will since the boy was born. Will was the boy he  _ bought  _ from that woman. He got to name him, carry him in his arms after his birth, take him home, and stay up countless nights to make sure he was alright. 

“Are my parents dead?” Techno asked. 

“I believe they would be by now,”

Wilbur had a thing for eating his food really fast. Phil always laughed at it warmly, ruffling the boy’s hair and reminding him no one was going to take it again. All he always got in response was a big grin, and more food shoved into his mouth.

“Can I make more?” Will asked. His plate only had a few crumbs left there. Phil looked onto the counter. They still had enough bread for more.

“Go on,” He agreed and watched as Will jumped off the chair, running deeper into the kitchen. “Just be careful with the knife,”

He turned again to the orphan. He was still way too young to change into his human form, Phil noticed. He would’ve to take teaching him how to do it on his shoulders. 

“There’s a spare bed in Will’s room. I think you might feel better with someone your age. This is your home now, if you want anything, let me know,”

Techno nodded, not raising his eyes from the plate.

  
  



	2. The Tale of the Gentlest of the Winds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Flowers,” He mumbled in amusement, reaching his little hand out to caress the petals of the nearby one. They were so gentle, fragile under his touch. He kept it gentle then, trying to avoid hurting them. Wilbur, standing in front of him, giggled. The smile he showed to Techno was warm, falling perfectly into the picture of the flower fields.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go again pals. How are you, how is it going? I hope all of you are having some good, quality time. Take a break, read some fics, all the shit you have to do can be done after you rest. 
> 
> Comments would make me really happy.
> 
> Enjoy the fluff while it lasts babies.
> 
> Twitter - @basinnit

> You can see him, I think, with his wingled temples and his delicate form; and he wears a crown of all kinds of flowers, and will soon weave a hyacinth in amongst them.
> 
> \- Philostratus the Elder

If anyone has asked Techno, what was the safest place on Earth, he would’ve replied without hesitation - the flower fields behind Philza’s house. It was a big, relatively open space, surrounded by a forest. Here and there, he could see the lonely trees, standing in the middle of flowers - towering over them with their age, memories, and wisdom. The trees were older than any of them, remembering the times when none of them or their ancestor moved on Earth. 

Yet, they seemed gentle. There was no intimidation in him, as he watched those trees. He could imagine younger Wil, climbing up them, falling from them, and trying again, determined boy he still was. Wil grew up there, among those trees, among those flowers. He swallowed the urge to tug Wilbur towards those trees, to check which one of them could climb higher, two six years old kids they were at the time. 

He watched closely. 

“Flowers,” He mumbled in amusement, reaching his little hand out to caress the petals of the nearby one. They were so gentle, fragile under his touch. He kept it gentle then, trying to avoid hurting them. Wilbur, standing in front of him, giggled. The smile he showed to Techno was warm, falling perfectly into the picture of the flower fields. 

“You know what? You match this place well,” The brunet said. His voice was more of a gentle hum, a soft melody matching the warm wind on the fields. He belonged there, Techno thought. This was his place, with his stupid, oversized yellow sweater. 

Before he could notice or think about it, Wil was holding his hand, tugging him deeper and deeper into the field, a loud laugh dancing through the air, accompanied by the songs of the birds flying above their heads. 

The sun was warm on Techno’s face. The grass, tall and vibrant green, reached their waists, tickling every patch of the bare skin it could find. Two boys, running through the grass, feet bare, just like their hearts. Bees and butterflies were flying around them, and Techno finally let himself relax. 

He felt the exact moment when Wil tripped over his feet and started falling, tugging Techno down with him. There was a beat of silence before they burst out laughing, rolling in the grass until they felt tears in the corners of their eyes. Wil’s hand was sweaty, squeezing Techno’s tightly, yet he didn’t want to let it go. 

It felt oddly comforting, the way Wil was so open to him. Techno’s parents were dead. He was a fresh orphan, a little prince with a possible price for his head, and yet all Wil did was showing him the flower fields and acting like they knew each other all life. He should’ve been alone, dead in the cold palace that never felt like home.

Yet, he was in Philza’s garden, with his son and his gentle smile. The only home he had was there, with those two strange people that immediately offered him the warmth he always craved. 

There was nothing  _ his  _ he had. All of his clothes, his sheets, things he cared about - all of it was back in the palace, between those cold, cold walls. The only thing left on him was the name his father gave him. 

The name, that for the first time in his life sounded sweet. Like a gentle breeze of wind, like honey, leaving Wil’s mouth with that sweet, sweet laugh.

Techno closed his eyes, letting the warmth surround him. 

* * *

Time seemed to pass faster when he didn’t have to count every hour like a maniac. Back in the palace, every hour felt like a week, painfully long and boring. He didn’t even grasp when the two years passed, and before he realized, they were eight.

Wil started playing guitar sometime before, and he quickly became really good at that. All of them found a weird sense of comfort with sitting in the living room, listening to the melodies Wil created. It felt warm. It felt like family, even if Techno never let them call him that. It was a boundary he didn’t want to cross, something set firmly in his mind, respected by both Wilbur and Phil.

Wil always sat on the couch, closest to the fireplace, the guitar on his lap. His fingers, the same that held Techno’s hand every time they could, were moving the strings in a calming melody, setting Techno’s mind at ease. 

“Come on, Techno. You need to focus,” Phil scolded him gently, dragging Techno’s attention back to what they were supposed to be doing.

They were sitting on a carpet, in front of the couch, facing each other. Phil’s expression was the same one Techno already knew by heart - the gentle, loving smile. The lack of judgment behind his eyes, the ocean’s deep patience he held for both of them. Phil’s wings were folded behind him, resting on his back. He had his palms on his knees, elbows relaxed, shoulders at ease. Techno tried to mirror it as well as he could. He tried to wear the same calmness and confidence Phil’s aura was filled with.

(It was extremely reassuring, the way Phil was always like that. Confident, proud, standing with his head high, protecting them from the danger, believing in them with every inch of his soul.)

“When we were younger, Phil said it’s kind of like a river,” Wil chimed in, the first time they tried this. 

They’ve been doing this for the past two weeks. Every evening they sat in the living room, with Techno in front of Philza, trying to calm that damn river down. He wanted to do it. He wanted to hear Phil’s loud laugher, proud of Techno, of his  _ son.  _ He wanted to feel Wil’s hands on his human face, giggling, excited, innocent.

The river became easy to find. When they started, the current was fast and dangerous, threatening to pull him in, pull him  _ under _ , and make him drown in the ice-cold water. 

He could hear Wil’s guitar in the background, making it easier to focus. There was fire, making a soft noise somewhere far behind, the smell of the hot chocolate they’ve drunk before this filling his nose.

He once again tried to calm the river down, make the current match the flow of Wil’s fingers dancing on the strings. A graceful waltz, the one he still remembered from the palace, two souls embraced together in a dance. Make it calmer, a little warmer, welcoming like the hands of a person leading the dance. Make it inviting, teasing, challenging in a way that makes you want to risk it, live it, catch that moment of freedom. 

He furrowed his brows, focusing fully on the feeling inside of him.

The music stopped. The living room drowned in sweet, amused silence, as the river flowed - calmer, without the threat. Licking the rocks playfully, moving through them, deeper and deeper inside of him, into the places he wasn’t yet able to reach. 

Techno opened his eyes. Phil’s smile grew wider, amusement dancing in his eyes. He seemed proud, just like Techno wished he would be. He moved his gaze to Wil, holding his guitar, eyes dancing over Techno’s face, mouth stretched in a wide smile.

“Did it work?” Techno asked softly, and Wil nodded at him, eager, happy - the only response Techno needed to jump up to his feet and run to the bathroom.

He stood on his toes, gripping the sink to push himself higher, see himself in the mirror. There stood a human boy, with pink hair reaching his shoulders, pointy ears peeking out from behind the pink locks, dark eyes, a human nose, and a human mouth, with tiny fangs in it.

A pair of feet ran through the floor, and soon Wil was standing in the door, grinning at him. Fond. The boy was fond of him, and Techno’s heart swelled in affection. He didn’t stop himself from running into his arms, hugging him tightly. 

“Does that mean I can finally call you my twin?” Wil asked into his hair, teasing, excited, innocent. Eight years old, wanting to finally be able to call Techno his brother.

Without hesitation, Techno let himself nod, hide his smile in Wil’s shoulder. Yet, they ended up laughing, running towards the living room, jumping at Phil, making the man cath the two kids, his little twins in his arms, wrapping them with his wings, the same kind of affection on his face.

This was his home. This was his family. 

Techno wanted to stay like this forever. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. The Tale of the Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil was a god. Wilbur knew that much, listening to the tales and stories of Phil's old companions, of the worlds beyond mortal's minds. Phil had fallen, that much he also knew. He didn't know why, or how. When he asked if it hurt, barely four years old - Phil just smiled at him. Then, the fallen god told him about the voices, the never-ending punishment he had received. Phil's voices were unique. Sometimes, they were violent. Other times, they yelled at him to help someone, like they did when he saw Techno sleeping in that palace. Sometimes, they helped him. Sometimes they were quiet. There might be a day, Phil said at the time, when you get them too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a heavy Trigger warning for blood, a little bit of derealization, nonintentional self-harm, and mild panic attacks.

The voices started half a year later. None of them were expecting what happened, none of them were ready for it. Will remembers that day well - Phil was gone for the day, busy with the commission he got down in the town, trusting both of them to take care of themselves and don't do anything stupid. Before he left, he and Techno assured him they were going to be fine - they were big boys, they were intelligent, and knew how to have fun without burning the whole cottage down. It was going well - they ate breakfast, done together mid waves of innocent giggles and little jokes. Will was in the bathroom when it happened. First, he heard the glass shatter on the floor, flinching at the loud noise.

"Are you okay?" He yelled after spitting out the toothpaste, standing in silence for a while, listening.

The silence in the house made a shiver run down his spine, his heart starting to beat faster. He cleared his mouth, dropped the toothbrush into its place, and ran to the kitchen, where he left Techno. He saw the glass pieces on the floor, too small to pick up by hand without hurting himself. He maneuvered between them carefully, panicked eyes moving over the kitchen's floor. He wasn't ready to see what he'd seen. Years later he still thought so, dizziness filling his head at the memory of it. When it happened, he almost threw up onto the floor, only the need to react stopping him from hunching over and doing so. The glass on the floor didn't matter anymore as he ran up to his twin brother, dropping onto his knees, adrenaline too high to care about the fresh cuts forming on them.

There sat Techno, in the middle of all of that mess, crying. His hands, gods, his hand - squeezing the glass between them, blood dripping down them, teeth biting down on his bottom lip to stop the violent sobs threatening to leave him.

"Techno, hey, please," Will rambled, trembling hands moving up to hold Techno's, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Not now, he reminded himself, trying to stay as calm as possible. "Please, let it go,"

He tried to open Techno's hands, make him drop the glass, gritting his teeth at the wounds on his skin. Techno sobbed, squeezing it harder, and Will wished so badly Phil was home at that time. He continued whispering, desperate, panicked, just a little kid not knowing what to do. Make him drop the glass, he heard in his head and agreed with those thoughts so much. He just had to make Techno drop the fucking glass, that's all he needed to do.

By the time he managed that, Techno's hands were wounded so badly Will had to squeeze his eyes shut. God, it looked terrible. He had to get over himself and clear it before something bad would happen, he thought. Even with his eyes closed, he could still see the blood, the cuts, the shaking in Techno's hands.

"Will," Techno choked up. He sounded broken, scared, like all he wanted was to hide from the world, from whatever made him do that thing. Like Will could help, despite being only a kid. "Will, it hurts so much,"

He pulled the sleeve over his hands and moved the glass away, adverting his eyes at the blood on the shattered pieces. Then, before he could think about it, he was tugging Techno in, crying silently into his pink hair, letting Techno shake in his arms, broken sobs and muffled screams the boy did tearing Will's heart apart. They had to clean the wounds. And the floor. And he had to throw up because that was too much. Because he was just a kid.

He doesn't remember how they ended up in the bathroom, and how the hell he kept himself calm. His hands were steady somehow, as he cleared Techno's wounds and took out all the glass pieces he could find. Techno wasn't crying anymore. He wasn't even wincing at the pain, staring blankly onto his hand, not even blinking. It looked almost like he wasn't even there. Will inhaled, closing his eyes for a second.

They've spent the rest of the day in the living room, on the opposite ends of the couch, in silence. Phil found them like that, silent, scared, still shaken up by what happened. God, Will remembered, he forgot to clean the kitchen. He didn't want to go there, he didn't want to see all of that again.

Phil's smile fell when he saw them. They were never like that, and Will knew it. The room was cold and silent. Phil furrowed his brows.

"The house's still standing, what else did you two do?" He asked, half-joking. Techno flinched. Will moved his eyes away. There was blood splashed on the corridor's floor from when he was desperately tugging Techno towards the bathroom.

Before Will knew, Phil was standing in front of both of them, worried eyes moving over their bodies, until they stopped on Techno's bandaged hands. The bandages were soaking with blood, Will realized. He started feeling dizzy again. He saw the moment Phil's body stilled, freezing in place, eyes watching the bandages Will put around Techno's hands.

"Gods, what happened?" He asked. His voice was softer, almost breaking, and Will wanted to cry.

(Techno did cry. He broke down right at that moment, tears flowing down his cheeks again and Will had to bite his cheek to stop himself from doing the same. His shoulders shook violently, the same they did when he was clenching Will's shirt hours before. It was the first time Phil had seen him cry.)

"I'm so sorry," Techno choked out, and Will felt the anger boiling inside of him.

"Don't be freaking sorry, just tell me why you idiot!" He begged.

"I- I don't know, they... they told me to do it,"

Phil was a god. Wilbur knew that much, listening to the tales and stories of Phil's old companions, of the worlds beyond mortal's minds. Phil had fallen, that much he also knew. He didn't know why, or how. When he asked if it hurt, barely four years old - Phil just smiled at him. Then, the fallen god told him about the voices, the never-ending punishment he had received. Phil's voices were unique. Sometimes, they were violent. Other times, they yelled at him to help someone, like they did when he saw Techno sleeping in that palace. Sometimes, they helped him. Sometimes they were quiet. There might be a day, Phil said at the time, when you get them too.

He did, one year after the talk. The voices were kind, the soft whispers in his head, making him itch for the music, crave the guitar in his hands, make him awake in the middle of the night because of the melodies in his head. He liked them and their companion. Sometimes, when he wouldn't get them as much art as they wanted, they would turn moody, pushing him to do things he didn't want. He made sure to play every day, or at least as often as possible, Phil's gentle hand and Techno's warm eyes accompanying him. He hoped Techno's voices would be kind too.

(They weren't. Techno's voices demanded blood, made him shake in the need to slaughter something, made him grip his head harshly, hoping they would stop. If Will could, he would take at least half of them, just to help Techno.)

That night, they fell asleep together, cuddled in Phil's bed, careful of Techno's wounded hands between them. That night, Will let himself hug Techno tighter, sob into his hair when he was sure his brother was sleeping.

It's been hard acting normal after that. The morning after was quiet. They sat at the table, chewing on their food, mindful of every little wince on Techno's face. Phil didn't talk. Sometimes he hummed, then shook his head in frustration, as if he almost had a solution to all of this, only to realize it wouldn't work seconds after. Will was tired. It - they - seemed like a completely different family. Will craved to go back in time, help Techno before it happened, avoid the violent voices in Techno's head. It was just starting to be better, the smile on Techno's face bigger and bigger each day. The smile, that Will wanted to see so much - was gone. Techno looked sick, silent - more unsure than he was the day they took him. He could almost hear what was going on in his head.

He's a problem. All he brings them are pains and issues, he shouldn't be there.

"Read me something," He blurted out, trying to pull all of them out of their thoughts.

Techno frowned, snapping out of whatever he was hearing.

"What?"

"I asked you to read me something. After breakfast," he pushed. "I think Phil has the Iliad on his shelf somewhere. Read it to me, Techno,"

They ended up in their room, sitting on Will's bed, his shaking fingers braiding Techno's long hair. It reached his shoulder blades already, growing quicker than other kid's hair. Techno's voice - unsure and unstable - carried through the room, reading the words of the Iliad. Will hoped it would work. He practically begged the heavens for it. Techno went through three first pages before he stopped for a second, taking in a shaky breath.

"Good?" Will asked, softly.

"They're quiet," Techno mused, quite shocked.

(Maybe Will was the gods' favorite. Maybe they didn't turn away from the fallen god completely.)

Techno's voice grew more sure, regaining some of his softness Will missed so much. He never spoke to others like that, only him and Phil.

They visited the library the following day, carrying home some of the thickest books they could find.

  
  


They were ten and Techno grew stupidly good at handling the sword. It wasn't Will's piece of bread, he kept on training only for Techno, only because it felt good to help his brother get better. When the sun had fallen, they would drop onto the grass, and Will would sing, letting Techno hum in the background. Back at home, they would read or write, joke around, pass out in the living room, making Phil carry them to their room. Slowly and surely, Techno learned how to ignore the voice's demands.

(Sometimes they were too loud. Sometimes Techno volunteered to go and kill the chickens or went out with Phil during his jobs, just to get the voices to stay calm. Will understood. It still made him flinch at the thought.)

Despite spending so much time away from the palace, there was something in Techno, in how he moved and acted, that just screamed royalty. He didn't like being called the prince, and Will quickly dropped the joke, not finding the frown on Techno's face worth it. Will picked up a lot of habits from him, talking slower, a little louder. From the two of them - Will was better at talking. Techno preferred acting, yet only when Will's words failed.

(They loved to use big words. Little boys with words bigger than them, running over the town's streets, laughing.)

They were eleven when Phil came back home, holding a little boy's hand.

Techno was reading quietly, new pair of glasses sitting neatly on his nose, and Will was on the chair, watering the plant they hung on a hook from the ceiling. Both of them stopped, watching the kid carefully.

He was small. Incredibly tiny, with bruises covering his face; big, blue eyes watching them nervously. He had blond hair, falling onto his face, with leaves tangled into them, smudged with the street's dirt. On his small body, he wore a shirt, way too big for him, with clumsily patched holes.

Will looked at Techno, finding his brother to be already looking at him. The pink-haired boy slammed the book shut and put it on the table, the same second Will jumped down from the chair.

"I will get the bath ready," Techno announced softly, already on his way to the bathroom.

"Can I get some of your old clothes?" Will asked, receiving a quick nod from him in return.

He ran to their room and dove into the wardrobe, trying to find the smallest clothes they still had. He grinned in success at the cotton shirt Techno arrived at their house in, the smallest one he ever owned. He moved to the bathroom, placing the clothes next to the sink, leaning over it, and watching his brother work.

"I am terrible with kids," Techno whispered, adjusting the glasses on his nose. Will laughed at that. "He's going to hate me,"

"I think he might hate all of us at the start, pretty sure Phil picked him up straight from the streets. It's going to take a while before he warms up to us,"

They watched as the water flows into the bathtub, Techno checking the temperature quickly.

"Doesn't matter. I am absolutely not washing him,"

"So am I, Phil took him in, Phil washes him,"

They looked at themselves and giggled, cheeks dusted with warm pinks. The door opened, their father standing in it, now holding the little boy in his arms.

"The bath is almost ready, and I got him some clothes. We're leaving you the washing duty, old man," Will smirked, and soon both he and Techno dipped from the bathroom, laughing at the loud whine Phil let out.

They sat on the couch, knees touching. There was silence for a while, both of them deep in their thoughts.

"He's going to be pretty annoying," Techno whispered, making Will throw his head back and laugh.

"I think all of us are, dickhead,"

They grinned at each other, giggling under their noses at the loud curse coming from Phil, the little boy possibly throwing a tantrum.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Yea just wanted to say thank you for reading. Spare me some kudos and comments, or I will cry /j
> 
> For real this time, it would be nice to see what do you guys think, mostly on Phil's character here, since we didn't really get to know the other boys. Yet.
> 
> Well, English is my second language, I haven't written shit in like 5 years, I forgot how this fucking language works so pardon me and my mistakes. No beta, because we die like men and I'm a little bitch who's too anxious to ask someone who's actually good at English to beta read that bad boy for me. 
> 
> Bye bye, see ya next time I get a sudden wave of "I need sleepy boys or I will literally rot in my bed in my own tears", ciao


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